


Can't catch me

by Marishna



Series: Advent Calendar 2016 [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Derek's Loft, M/M, POV Peter Hale, Pre-Peter/Stiles - Freeform, Sassy Peter, stiles gets under peter's skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: The sound of cursing led Peter to the rudimentary kitchen in his nephew's loft.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Day 18 of my holiday advent calendar! This one is for spacecatkittens who requested Steter and gingerbread. 
> 
> If you're in the neighborhood feel free to follow me on Tumblr at hoechlin-perfection!

The sound of cursing led Peter to the rudimentary kitchen in his nephew's loft.  From the top of the stairs, if he crouched just right, he could see what was going on and so scoped the situation out before deciding if he thought the potential threat was worth his effort. 

Stiles was baking something in the kitchen and seemed to be having trouble with whatever he was making.  Peter considered slipping down the fire escape and leaving him to his work--but where was the fun in that when it was so much more enjoyable to watch him squirm?

"It's funny how often you conveniently forget about the concept of break and enter," Peter announced as he descended the stairs.  

Stiles' head snapped up and he regarded Peter warily but he kept stirring what he was making in a large bowl.  Peter strolled across the floor slowly but kept his eyes on Stiles.

"My oven is busted and I figured this one wasn't being used," Stiles explained as if Peter actually cared.

"Feel free," Peter replied dismissively.  "It won't cost you.  Much."

Stiles let the bowl drop to the counter and he let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand through his hair. Peter tracked his movements closely and watched his reactions.

"What do you want?" Stiles asked flatly.

Peter considered him for a moment.  He hadn't actually expected a true answer.  Stiles must have really been in a pinch.

"Let me help," Peter finally offered and he felt a thrill run through him at the surprised look that showed on Stiles' face before it fell into doubt and distrust.

"What's the catch?" Stiles asked.  Peter could pretend to be hurt but he was mainly impressed that Stiles didn't give him an in.

"No catch," Peter replied with a shake of his head, then continued simply.  "Just let me help."

Stiles looked confused but he shrugged slowly and pushed a bag of powdered sugar and some butter and vanilla to him.  "Mix that up for frosting, then.  I need to have five dozen gingerbread men ready for the hospital party tonight."

"Such a go-gooder," Peter observed but rolled his eyes when Stiles shot him a glare.  "Fine, fine."

Peter pulled up an easy recipe for frosting up on his phone and got to work, working all by hand because Stiles hadn't brought an electric mixer and he knew for sure that there were the barest of bones in the area of the loft Derek referred to as the "kitchen".  As he mixed the ingredients and honestly tried his best to make sure the consistency was just right he watched Stiles as he moved around and grabbed what he needed for the actual cookies.

As easily as Peter could fly off the handle he was, at his heart, a true predator.  Part of his success in that regard was watching people and learning about them from things they didn't realize they were doing.  Since his nephew got Stiles and the current fellow do-gooder alpha involved in their lives Peter spent a lot of time watching Stiles.  Probably more than anyone. 

With a little training Stiles would make an incredibly shrewd werewolf.  One that Peter wouldn't hesitate to trust if they were on the same side.  With that thought Peter blinked in surprise.  The level of trust he felt he could put in Stiles as a human was staggering to him, even.

"You're quiet," Stiles said and pulled Peter from his thoughts.

"Shouldn't that be a good thing in your eyes?" Peter asked drily.

"Practically like a vacation," Stiles shot back sarcastically.  "It's just so uncommon that I have to make sure you haven't hit your head or gone through a body swap."

"Your concern overwhelms me," Peter said flatly.  He put aside the bowl of frosting he got to a point he thought would work fine for the cookies.  He found a couple other bowls in a cupboard and started mixing more while he added some food coloring to those ones.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, eyeing Peter suspiciously.

"White frosting on gingerbread is rather boring, don't you think?"

"I've never thought that much about cookies, I guess," Stiles said slowly while shrugging his shoulders.  

Peter thought of a couple ways he could have responded to that but instead didn't say anything.  He took his time with the icing and then looked through every cupboard and drawer in the room for no other reason than he could.

By the time Stiles pulled the first batch of cookies out of the oven Peter was ready to throw himself out the window from boredom.  But for some reason he couldn't make himself leave Stiles alone. 

"Okay," Stiles muttered under his breath.  He was trying to load some of the frosting into an icing bag but was mostly making a mess.  Peter watched him spoon it in and then fumble with the bag to get it to actually work.  

Four cookies later Peter couldn't handle it any longer.  He stepped forward and plucked the bag out of Stiles' hands.  

"Hey!" Stiles exclaimed as he grabbed for the bag.  Stiles was taller than Peter but Peter was able to evade and predict movements with practiced ease and so managed to keep it out of his grasp.

"Do you want to make cookies for the hospital or _good_ cookies?" Peter asked and Stiles stopped trying to grab the bag back.

Stiles raised an eyebrow dubiously.  "You think you can frost these cookies better than I can?  By all means." He gestured exaggeratedly at the gingerbread people and stepped aside.     
Peter rolled his eyes but stepped up to the makeshift frosting station.  He emptied the bag and tossed it aside in favor of a smaller one Stiles had from what appeared to be a cookie-making kit for dummies.  Peter refrained from rolling his eyes. 

It was years since Peter did anything like this, likely since before the fire.  But the muscle memory was still strong and it only took him a couple cookies before he was whipping through them with little effort.  The bug-eyed look on Stiles' face was worth letting his guard down in front of the other man.

"You're really good at this," Stiles said in a surprised tone.

"I have talents aside from killing and maiming," Peter replied.  They both knew he was only half kidding about that.  He didn't let Stiles grab the opportunity and instead prepared another smaller bag with one of the coloured icings and shoved it into his hands.  "Here, you make faces."

Stiles didn't say anything but he started icing eyes and a mouth on the cookies Peter already got to with the white icing.  They worked on opposite sides of the island and so were able to stay out of each other's space but as Stiles shuffled trays of cookies to and from the oven his chest or ass would brush against Peter's back every now and then.    
If he saw a shrink Peter was pretty sure they would be very impressed by his evolution by not saying anything about it to Stiles.

Every now and then Stiles would ask him questions, ones that got less and less pointed and that didn't point out that he'd done some shitty things in the eyes of people who didn't know what he'd been through.  Peter could tell Stiles wasn't doing it just to be polite but to sate his undeniable curiosity that always drew him to Stiles.

He answered everything honestly and he could tell Stiles believed him.  Peter had no need to lie about anything he'd done in his life, not when everyone expected him to have done even worse things.  Maybe someday he'd do what everyone already thought he had but for now he'd have to throw people off by doing things like frosting cookies for a Christmas party at a hospital.

Oh yeah, he had layers. 

And one of them had to admit that he was a little disappointed once Stiles packed up the last of the gingerbread cookies they made.  

"Thanks for helping," Stiles said as he pulled his coat on.  

Peter shrugged and didn't stay to watch Stiles load up his arms and leave.  He could offer to help him carry them down but he'd done his good deed for the day and it would have to be enough.

Instead he disappeared back up the stairs and waited until Stiles left to fully relax.  Peter could smell the lush scent of the ginger and cinnamon Stiles baked with everywhere.  He couldn't get away from it because it was in the air, on his clothing, in his nose.  With a growl he left the loft via the fire escape and decided to find a bar or bottle and start erasing the memories of spending the afternoon with Stiles.

When he returned to the loft hours later he left himself in by the door. The smell dissipated somewhat in the loft so he could take a deep breath without being assaulted by the spices or the memories they triggered.

A lone plate on the island caught his eye, though, and Peter crossed the floor to check it out.  There were two gingerbread cookies on the plate with a note beside it that looked torn from a notebook.  In Stiles' messy scrawl was written, _thanks for the help, I'll take it as my birthday and Christmas rolled into one._

Peter snorted and picked up one of the gingerbread cookies they made together.  He ate one slowly, relishing the way the taste melted onto his tongue, and stared at the second one long into the evening.


End file.
